


Starlight, Starbright

by zelda_zee



Series: Star 'Verse [2]
Category: Lost
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Tattoos, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sawyer gets the tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight, Starbright

The first time Sawyer had mentioned it they had been on a train, somewhere between Prague and Warsaw. It was night and he and Jack had the compartment to themselves. Jack was stretched out on the bench, the rumble of the wheels rolling over the tracks vibrating through his body. Sawyer lay on top of him, slowly mouthing the outline of flame and fire, pinning Jack’s arm above his head to tongue the azure stars. Jack breathed slowly, deeply. Sawyer’s hair brushed his face, smelling of coconut.

“Want one,” Sawyer mumbled, his lips moving against Jack’s skin.

“One what?”

Sawyer licked downward toward his armpit, pausing to circle a dark star inked into pale skin.

“One of these.” He drew back, smiling at Jack. “A tattoo.”

“You want one?” Jack asked. “Are you sure? They’re permanent, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sawyer breathed, meeting Jack’s eyes. “That’s why.”

*

It had come as a surprise to Jack, this desire. But Sawyer claimed he’d been thinking about it for a long time, even when they were on the island and he thought he’d never be able to get one. The idea made Jack uncomfortable, because he couldn't shake the belief that Sawyer would come to regret it, which was the same thing as thinking that Sawyer would come to regret _him_. There had not been much permanence in Sawyer’s life up until then.

“But _why_ do you want one?” Jack asked. They were sitting on the beach, staring out at the Baltic Sea, a balmy breeze ruffling their hair.

“I just think they’re cool,” Sawyer said, lying back and closing his eyes.

“That’s not a good enough reason,” argued Jack.

“It’s a perfectly good reason.”

“If you just wanted a tattoo because you think they’re cool, you would’ve gotten one a long time ago.” Jack settled down beside Sawyer, propping himself up on his elbow, watching Sawyer’s face. “I want to know, why now?”

Sawyer opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness.

“Well, if you can’t figure it out, Jacko, I ain’t gonna be the one to tell you,” he said, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

Jack felt his stomach do a flip, the way it always did when Sawyer looked at him like that. He rested a hand on the warm, tanned skin of Sawyer’s hip as he closed his eyes again, sighing contentedly.

“Sun feels good,” Sawyer murmured.

Jack looked out to sea, watching the waves roll up the sandy shore. The beach was full of people, behind them the bustle of the town could be heard, and they were far, far from anywhere tropical. But still, he couldn’t relax.

“I hate the beach,” he sighed.

Sawyer rolled toward him and took his hand, kissing the tips of his fingers, nipping and sucking at each one in turn. Jack felt his cock twitch.

“Gotta get you over that, Jack,” Sawyer said, tongue flicking over his pinky. “There’s a whole lotta ocean in the world, and a whole lotta beach right next to it. And I don't care about the fuckin' island, I've always liked the beach and I still like it."

"Yeah, okay," Jack said, giving in. "I'll work on it." 

*

“A star,” said Sawyer taking a hit of the joint and passing it to Jack. Jack held it between his fingers, contemplating the chess board on the table. Sawyer was kicking his ass as he had every day since they’d been spending their afternoons at this particular has bar, getting high and playing chess and drinking potent little cups of dark espresso.

“What?” Jack's attention was only half focused on what Sawyer was saying.

“A star, on my back. Or on my shoulder, like where yours is.” He gave Jack a sly smile. Sawyer had a habit of fastening his mouth onto that tattoo when he had Jack on his knees.

“Oh-kay,” Jack said. “Why a star?”

Sawyer reached across the small table and grabbed Jack’s wrist, extending it so that the tattoos on the inside of his upper arm were visible.

“Sawyer, I don’t think – you shouldn’t base your decision on the fact that I’ve got tattoos, or on what they’re of. I just don’t think that’s a good idea. You could come to regret that someday.” He took a breath, intending to say more, but then he swallowed the words. _Having a permanent reminder of me. You might get tired of this – of us – at some point, want something different. Someone different._

Sawyer took the joint from Jack’s hand, put it between his lips. He moved his knight. “Check,” he said, a stream of smoke escaping before he pressed his lips together again.

He held the smoke for a moment, then exhaled slowly, offering the joint to Jack, who shook his head. Sawyer rested it carefully on the edge of the ashtray. He sighed, leaning against the back of the bench, resting his head on the wall, looking at Jack from under half-closed lids.

“It bugs you to think that I’d want a star like yours.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that it’s so permanent.” Jack watched Sawyer’s jaw settle into a hard angle.

“And we’re not,” Sawyer stated flatly.

“I don’t know,” said Jack. Sawyer’s eyes narrowed, the crow’s feet at the corners deepening. “We haven’t been back that long, Sawyer. Everything’s different now. I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” said Sawyer suddenly, grabbing his jacket and getting to his feet.

“Sawyer, come on –”

Jack fell silent as Sawyer turned to look at him, hurt etched across his face.

“Maybe everything’s different now to _you_ , Jack. But not to me.”

*

It was after midnight when Sawyer returned. Jack was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a chaise on the deck of the barge, staring at the shimmering reflection of lights on the water. He watched Sawyer put one foot carefully in front of the other, weaving precariously up the gangplank and nearly tumbling over the railing as he stepped onto the boat.

He stood in front of Jack, looking down at him, swaying from side to side. Jack reached up and took his hand.

“Come here,” he said. Sawyer sank down beside him in one fluid motion, as if his legs had suddenly given out. Jack reached a hand to his shoulder and pulled him down the rest of the way, turning onto his side to make room. Sawyer resisted for the barest moment, then yielded, stretching out beside Jack. Jack covered him with the blanket.

“’m drunk,” Sawyer mumbled. His voice was smoky and slurred.

Jack slipped his hand beneath Sawyer’s shirt, resting it on the smooth skin of his waist.

“It’s okay.” He paused, listening to the low sighing of Sawyer’s breath. “I’m sorry.” His thumb moved in circles, tracing a gentle spiral. “I don’t want things to be different. I’m just afraid, Sawyer. I’m afraid that a time’s gonna come when you want to move on.”

“No, no, no,” Sawyer said emphatically. He looked down, his eyes glittering slits in the dark. “You’ve got it backwards. Backwards, y’see?”

Jack shook his head, not understanding. He should know better than to try to have a conversation like this when Sawyer was drunk.

Sawyer burrowed into him until they were pressed tightly together, his forehead resting in the crook of Jack’s neck. Jack wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

“You’re gonna leave me, Jack,” Sawyer whispered. “Jus’ soon’s you wake up an’ realize you can do better.”

“Shh,” said Jack, stroking his hair. “You’re being silly.”

“S’why I want the tat. So’s I’ll always have somethin’… somethin’ tha’s part of you, for when you’re gone.” Sawyer tilted his head back and looked up at him then, and Jack’s heart tightened at how beautiful he was, his features painted with the bright and dark of nighttime shadow. “That way I’d always have you,” Sawyer mumbled, his eyes falling closed. “Always, always, always.”

Jack leaned in and kissed him tenderly. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Don’ need to talk ‘bout it,” Sawyer muttered. “Jus' wanted you t’know. Tha’s why.”

“Okay,” Jack said. Sawyer settled in against him with a sigh. His body was warm and slack, leaning heavily onto Jack’s. He smelled of hash and cigarettes and liquor, but Jack could still make out the faint aroma of coconut, the scent of Sawyer’s shampoo, a scent that always gave him a strange, not unwelcome feeling of déjà vu.

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered into Sawyer’s ear, but Sawyer was asleep.

*

“Right here.” Jack’s fingertips found the midpoint between the dimples at the small of Sawyer’s back. Warm water cascaded over sculpted muscle and bronzed skin as Jack traced the imaginary star's five points with his fingernail. Sawyer turned to look at him over his shoulder. Jack trailed his hand from one dimple to the other. “I love this place. It’s so beautiful. Put your star here.”

“ _Your_ star, Jack,” Sawyer corrected. He leaned forward, resting his palms against the tiled wall of the shower, pushing back against Jack’s hand. His ass brushed Jack’s erection, and he pushed back again, insistently this time.

Jack went to his knees, pressing a kiss just to the left of Sawyer’s spine. “One here, for you. And one here,” he said, moving to the right. "For me."

*

Sawyer lay on his stomach on the table. His eyes were closed and Jack thought he looked as though his mind was somewhere very far away. The buzz of the tattoo needle filled the room.

His jeans were unfastened, pulled down low on his hips, revealing the pale skin that was usually only Jack’s to see. White paper towels were tucked into the waistband and lying over the denim to catch any random spray of ink or blood, the smooth expanse of his back bared to the needle. Jack had asked him again on the way there if he was sure, if he was absolutely certain it was what he wanted.

But he was. Sawyer assured him of that again, patiently and quietly, as he had every time Jack had asked.

Sawyer’s hand was tight around his, but he exhibited no other sign of pain or nerves. Jack sat beside him, watching his face. His mouth was open just a bit and Jack could hear him breathing in the pauses between buzzing. His cheeks were flushed and glowing with a fine patina of sweat, his lashes fluttered but his eyes didn’t open. There was a vertical crease in his forehead, the same one that appeared when he was about eight moves away from checkmate. A single lock of gold hair hung down across his face. Jack wished he’d open his eyes, so he could see what was going on inside his head as the needle drilled the first of the blue five-pointed stars into his skin.

Sawyer gasped quietly and his hand tightened around Jack’s, crushing his fingers together.

“Hurt?” Jack asked. He leaned forward in the chair so his mouth was almost touching Sawyer’s hair.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jack watched Sawyer’s lower lip whiten where he was biting it. When he released it the skin reddened. He could see two indentations from Sawyer’s teeth. Jack fought down the urge to lick over the full pink flesh and feel those little dips under his tongue.

Sawyer didn’t say anything else. Whatever he was feeling, he was keeping it to himself.

Jack glanced up at the guy wielding the needle. His name was Bas, he was covered in tattoos, he spoke perfect English and he was not the type to raise an eyebrow at two guys holding hands and whispering in each other’s ears while he did his work. But then, thought Jack, there wasn't much that people in Amsterdam would be likely to raise an eyebrow at.

Bas caught his eye. “He okay?”

Jack nodded. “He’s fine.” Sawyer didn’t say anything, but gave Jack's hand a squeeze.

Jack lost track of time. His mind drifted from Sawyer and what he might be feeling to his own experiences under the needle to the places they’d been to their plans for tomorrow. Tomorrow was about as far in advance as they planned these days.

He watched a droplet of sweat trickle down Sawyer’s neck, following its languid path with his eyes. Occasionally Sawyer shivered, skin rippling over muscle. Jack thought his breathing had sped up, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of the needle. And then he did hear a sound, something between a whimper and a moan, choked back and half-smothered. Sawyer opened his eyes and Jack felt an electric jolt jar his body as he looked into them, pupils blown out wide, hot and dark, dragging Jack in. Jack leaned closer, watching in rapt fascination as Sawyer licked his lips, the pink tip of his tongue rubbing back and forth over the teeth marks. They looked at each other for a long, long moment, the sounds of the needle, the rock music playing in the background, voices, traffic, all fading and it was just him and Sawyer and the desire, thick and sweet, arcing between them.

“He needs a break,” said Jack, his eyes not leaving Sawyer’s. The sound of the needle died and he looked up. Bas gave him a crooked grin and nodded in understanding.

“In a moment. I have still to finish the point of this star. Then there will only be one more to do.” He bent down over Sawyer’s back again. Jack looked at Sawyer, but his eyes had fallen closed.

It seemed like an eternity before Bas put the needle down, peeled off his gloves, gave Jack a curt nod and disappeared through the curtain that screened the room off from the rest of the shop.

Sawyer lay still, but he was biting his lip again. “Sawyer?” Jack whispered, brushing back that errant lock of hair. “Hey.”

Sawyer looked at him, his eyes still bottomless black wells and Jack felt his whole body contract at what he saw there.

“Jack.” His voice was low and gritty, like honey flowing over sand.

Jack rubbed his thumb back and forth over Sawyer’s cheekbone, feeling the heat of his skin, the dampness of perspiration. Sawyer’s mouth fell open a bit farther and Jack’s breath caught. So beautiful. Perfect. Everything about this moment was perfect.

“I know.” He swallowed, forced himself to move. “Here. Roll onto your side. Easy.” He rested his hand on Sawyer’s hip, holding his jeans in place.

Sawyer shifted on the table and froze, his eyes squeezing shut, his expression pained. He inhaled, a stuttering gasp, then rolled carefully up. His jeans were unzipped to allow for them being pushed down over his hips, and his cock… Jack hissed at the sight of it jutting out of his open fly, hard and swollen and flushed dark, the tip glistening wet, pressing up against his belly. As Jack watched, a pearly droplet beaded up at the tip, slipping slowly over smooth skin. He reached out, smearing it with his thumb, sliding along the flared ridge. Sawyer made a strangled noise and grabbed his wrist.

“I… Fuck, Jack. We can’t –” His eyes flicked to the doorway where the curtain swayed back and forth. Jack could hear the hum of voices on the other side. Sawyer looked at him again, desperate. “Not here.”

“Shhh. It’s okay,” Jack said. “Just keep quiet.” And then he wrapped his hand around Sawyer’s cock, bending forward and swallowing him down in one swift motion, moaning at the sea salt taste, the musky, animal smell, the heat burning along his tongue. Sawyer gasped, his fingers digging into Jack’s shoulder. He shook, his breath rasping loudly, trying to hold back, then he suddenly arched forward with a ragged groan. Jack splayed his hand over Sawyer’s hip, holding him, afraid he’d hurt himself or damage the design if he moved too much.

The angle was awkward, but it didn’t matter, with Sawyer already so hard, so close to losing control. Jack sucked wetly, using his hand, his tongue, his lips, hard suction, everything with an aim to bringing Sawyer off quickly. A hand fell onto Jack’s head, clutching his hair, just long enough now for Sawyer to be able to tug on it a bit too hard.

“ _Jack_. God.” Too loud, Jack thought, stretching his hand up Sawyer’s body, pushing three fingers into his mouth. Sawyer growled around them, sucking fiercely. Jack closed his eyes to the sight, feeling the heat, the solid, quivering flesh filling his mouth, letting his awareness be only of Sawyer, his need, his pleasure, and _oh fuck yes_ , as Sawyer froze, every muscle going rigid. Jack felt the release hit him hard as his hips snapped forward, cock pushing deeper into Jack’s mouth. He shuddered and jerked, gasping around Jack’s fingers, pulling painfully on his hair and Jack felt the warmth hit the back of his throat as Sawyer’s cock pulsed between his lips.

Jack let his fingers slip from Sawyer’s mouth, suckled him until he eased all the way back down, his hands smoothing over Sawyer’s trembling stomach, around his side, rubbing his palm back and forth over the ridge of his hipbone. Sawyer moaned quietly with each exhalation, then he sighed and opened his eyes, blinking slowly at Jack, his smile soft and warm.

“What about you?” Sawyer whispered, a finger tracing the curve of Jack’s lower lip as he smiled in return.

“Later.” Jack shook his head as Sawyer started to protest. “It’s okay. Anyway, I’ve got plans for you once you’ve got the tattoo.”

“Can’t touch it,” Sawyer murmured drowsily.

“I know,” Jack said, helping Sawyer reposition himself on the table. “But I can look at it, can't I?" Sawyer gave him a knowing smile and nodded.

Jack turned toward the door, about to call Bas back in to finish the job, when his eye was caught by the two blue stars at the small of Sawyer’s back, one to the left of his spine and one to the right.

“Sawyer.” Jack frowned at the design. “There’s two stars here. He said he still had one more to do.”

“That’s right,” Sawyer sighed, pillowing his head on his arms. He looked like he was already half asleep.

“But that’s what you were getting – two stars.”

“Nope. Gettin’ three.”

“Three? But –” Jack shook his head. The temptation to touch the stars was almost overwhelming. The skin was pink, inflamed. He could see tiny points of blood rising out of the deep blue. It didn’t matter, he wanted to feel ink and blood under his fingers, taste it on his tongue.

“Why three stars?” They had talked about it. One star for Sawyer, one for Jack.

Sawyer chuckled. “What d’you tell me ‘bout your tats?”

“I –” Jack grimaced. “I don’t tell you anything.”

Sawyer didn’t reply, but Jack could see him smile.

*

They lay cradled in a gentle hollow between rocky outcroppings, the sea crashing and surging below them. The grass beneath them was unbelievably green, the sky above impossibly blue, the ground soft as a mattress. Gulls circled and cried, their piercing calls somehow reassuring. There had been no gulls on the island.

They had spent the afternoon hiking along the cliffs, poking around the stone formations that made this stretch of the North Antrim coast famous. Now the sun was lowering toward the horizon, casting a net of golden light over sea and sky and land.

Sawyer dozed on his stomach, his jeans riding low, his t-shirt rucked up just enough. Jack traced the outline of the middle star with a fingertip, traveling the divide between dark and light with a lazy touch. Sawyer’s skin was warm and he could feel the energy that lay beneath it under the pad of his finger. Jack imagined unknown universes, the fire of faraway suns.

Sawyer hadn’t told him why he got the third star, and Jack hadn’t asked again.

“This one is my favorite,” he murmured, but if Sawyer heard him, he gave no sign.


End file.
